


Ghostly Comfort

by MivLiv



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:33:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25676650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MivLiv/pseuds/MivLiv
Summary: She had made it a ritual to focus her mind on the tasks at hand as soon as she woke up every morning. It meant that by the time her advisors assailed her with the seemingly endless list of things the Inquisition had to accomplish, she was prepared with some ideas of her own. It also meant she gave herself no time to dwell on the silence that enveloped her every night. Once all of Skyhold had gone to bed and her friends had all found their way home, once the Inquisitor’s duties were done for the day, all that remained was a small, rootless elf, away from her clan and their woods, surrounded by ancient walls and foreign people.
Relationships: Cole/Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Cole/Female Lavellan (Dragon Age), Cole/Inquisitor (Dragon Age)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	1. Waking Up Alone

The cold light passing through the large windows of her tower gently pulled Mivrae awake. As she lay with her eyes closed, she allowed the day’s meetings and the plans for the Inquisition’s next expedition to the Exalted Plains to slowly pass through her groggy mind. She had made it a ritual to focus her mind on the tasks at hand as soon as she woke up every morning. It meant that by the time her advisors assailed her with the seemingly endless list of things the Inquisition had to accomplish, she was prepared with some ideas of her own. It also meant she gave herself no time to dwell on the silence that enveloped her every night. Once all of Skyhold had gone to bed and her friends had all found their way home, once the Inquisitor’s duties were done for the day, all that remained was a small, rootless elf, away from her clan and their woods, surrounded by ancient walls and foreign people. Too much of an elf to feel truly at home in her new role as Herald of Andraste, but still too little of one for her only elven companion to truly take notice of her. She hoped sometimes that Solas’ companionship would lift the silence in more than just their shared explorations of the fade, but in the wee hours of the morning her hopes served only to make the loneliness sting that little bit more.

Just as the unbidden thoughts crossed her mind, she felt her mattress dip, like someone was moving next to her. Her hand immediately went to the dagger Cassandra had insisted she keep under her pillow, only to freeze at an odd angle when her eyes opened to stare into familiar cold-blue eyes.

“Cole!?”

The boy was lying on his side in her bed, his wide hat flattened under his head, his face open and expressionless as his eyes searched her own.

“ _Alone… Again… Always… Never there when I wake up…_ Longing, bitter, it hurts you. I want to help.”

She sighed, letting go of the dagger and slowly letting her arm relax at her side. _Of course he does_ , she thought and couldn’t help a light chuckle.

“I… Thank you, Cole, but it’s more complicated than that. Wanting someone here when I wake up, it… it’s not just anyone… Uhm…”

Mivrae felt herself become more flustered as her words skirted past the feelings hidden between the lines of the thoughts Cole recited, past the memories of a kiss in a dream that felt impossibly long ago, past the hope that it may one day happen in the waking world. Before her thoughts drifted too far, she remined herself of Cole, patiently waiting for her to finish her explanation. She was suddenly filled with apprehension at the idea that she might not have to, that he may already know everything. She was a private person and Cole’s prodding, while always well-intentioned, often left her feeling exposed. She was secretly grateful for the Anchor hiding most of her thoughts from his piercing gaze, although this particular morning it seemed to be failing her.

“I know,” his soft voice brought her back from her thoughts. “This is not exactly what you want, but… _Silly Cole, that’s sweet, misguided, but sweet… And what was I thinking with the dagger?_ Thoughts that ring like bells, isn’t that better?” His eyes had left hers, looking unsure.

She was speechless for a few moments, staring at the dagger held limply in her hand, before finally laughing out loud. Yes, waking up to a helpful spirit assassin having misunderstood her desire for company was funny. Trying to defend herself with a jewelled dagger rather than simply casting a spell was also funny. Definitely funnier than anything that had happened to her since the Breach had opened. And for the first time in a while, the longing that pulled at her every morning was gone.

“Yes, you’re right, it is better. Thank you.” she said again, fully meaning it now and a warm smile blossomed on her lips.

His face immediately lit up, breaking out into a giant smile she hadn’t even been aware he was capable of. “I’m glad.” And with that he was gone.

 _No doubt off to help some other unfortunate soul,_ Mivrae thought, chuckling again as she slid the dagger back fully under the pillow before getting up to face the day, amusement warming her thoughts as she found her way to the War Room.

***

She was expecting the one incident to be the end of Cole’s latest attempt to help, so when she woke up to blue eyes again the following morning, she almost grabbed for the dagger again.

“Cole…You’re back?”

“You would have hurt otherwise.” he answered simply.

Mivrae chuckled again. “Are you planning to come back every day then?”

He turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling and fiddling with his hand-wraps.

“If it helps.” His voice was quiet but determined. He was serious. Unless she told him otherwise, Mivrae was sure the boy would come back, again and again. Until…what? Would he stop if she found a lover? Or a pet maybe? As Mivrae’s sleepy musings started going off-track, his voice reminded her she was not alone, in her bed or in her thoughts.

“When the pain is gone… Or as long as you let me.” His voice was calm, whatever emotion on his face hidden by the side of his hat.

 _How long will that be?_ She wondered.

“How long have you been here?” she asked instead

“Since the sun moved above the horizon. Its light pulls you awake.”

“Did you wake up just for this?”

“I don’t sleep.” He said matter-of-factly, reminding her once again of his peculiar nature.

“How did you know? I thought the mark blocked everything.”

“It does. Most things. But sometimes the pain is loud enough. And sometimes the night quiets others’ pain. And if I focus on it, I can just about hear.”

Saying that, he turned to look at her and she could see her pain reflected in his eyes. Or was he hurting…? Before she could ask, he disappeared again, as quickly as the first time.

Mivrae didn’t laugh this time. Her heart felt heavy and light at the same time. She was not alone, but the look in his eyes had seemed so pained, she couldn’t help but worry. She didn’t understand Cole’s emotions well enough to know if he was just showing her the pain he saw in her or if he somehow felt it too. _It would be kinder to stop him_ , she thought, _before he somehow drags himself too deep into a hurt he cannot fix_. Still, a part of her relished the lightness his serene presence brought her and as more pressing concerns filtered into her increasingly awake mind, she allowed this particular worry to be buried away for now.

***

Cole kept coming back. Every day, at the first ray of light, he would appear in her room and lie down next to her. Sometimes he would watch her wake up, sometimes he’d just stare at the ceiling or the mountains outside her window. Most mornings were silent. He would wait for her to acknowledge him, smile softly at her and then disappear. It made her smile in return, she wasn’t sure exactly why. Maybe it was the memory of the first morning he was there, with her ridiculously useless attempt to stab him. Maybe it was the warmth of someone doing something kind for her with no expectation of reward. Maybe it was the fact that, unorthodox as it was, she finally had someone to wake up next to.

The thought brought unbidden images of the one she actually longed to have by her side. Solas had seemed to reciprocate to some degree, at times. He had conjured a dream of Haven for her after all. He had also immediately expressed regret for what had transpired in it. _He’s almost as confusing as Cole. At least the spirit has an excuse._ Nonetheless, for all the confusion, Mivrae couldn’t deny her feelings for the elven mage. Was it really healthy to allow Cole to take some of the edge away instead of facing Solas’ distant behaviour head on? She couldn’t bring herself to answer that question.

She also had less philosophical concerns about their arrangement though. The expedition to the Exalted Plains had finally been organised, so they would be in the field for the next few weeks. In a small camp, with all the others nearby. She worried that if Cole tried to come to her tent, without the many empty castle halls hiding him, someone would notice. Mivrae could already imagine the comments, running the gamut from “He must be trying to kill you” to some dirty comment from the Iron Bull to some unpredictable comment about the nature of spirits from Solas. She didn’t know how to bring it up with Cole though, as she doubted he would understand why being seen would be a problem, or if he did, he may just suggest making people forget. So, she just packed her things, allowed war and demons and walking dead fill her mind instead and hoped for the best.

***

As it turned out, she had had no reason to worry. For the almost three weeks they spent trekking through the abandoned ramparts of the Plains, Mivrae had woken up alone in her tent every morning. She would find Cole outside, pestering someone or other with strange questions or staring intently at something she couldn’t quite identify. By the time they got back to Skyhold, Mivrae realised she missed their mornings together. _Has he stopped for good? Maybe he’s found someone else to help._ The thought should have made her happy, his efforts could have been spent much better on someone who could be helped more permanently. But instead, it left her feeling hollow somehow, the loneliness he’d helped keep at bay threatening to close around her again _._

However, as she woke up on the first day at Skyhold, she could feel his presence before even opening her eyes. There he was, blue eyes focused on her through light blonde bangs, hat squashed flat against her pillows, tethering between resting on his head and collapsing entirely onto the bed. For the first time, he spoke first:

“You were worried I wouldn’t come. _Forgotten, abandoned, alone_.”

Something in his tone made the underlying meaning clear. Cole would never abandon someone who needed him. She had to wonder, though, when she had started needing this.

“You didn’t while we were away. I thought you may have moved on to someone else.” She said with a light chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

“No.” he said seriously. Just as she thought her slight joke had been lost on the spirit, he laughed softly – “I don’t think any of the others would appreciate me in their bed.”

She laughed as an image of Iron Bull waking up to Cole lying casually in his bed, staring at him popped into her head. Thinking about it, she had never heard Cole laugh before. The sound was warm and light, much like his presence by her side. _I didn’t know spirits could laugh…_ It made him seem less foreign somehow, less like a helpful ghost and more like the young man he appeared to be, flesh and blood and vocal cords that vibrated warmly in his amusement. The thought made her blush slightly, before she pushed it away with a slight shake of her head.

“Why didn’t you come then?”

“There was less pain. Other things hurt – bones, cuts, burns. No time to be lonely. No need for me to come. Here, the pain is back.”

“Well, thank you for coming back then.” Mivrae said, realising he was right. Amid an ancient battlefield, she had had no time to think about her own problems. They had all come crashing back the previous night, when Solas had once again evaded her attempts to talk to him in private after everyone had left the tavern. She had to give him the time he had asked for, she knew, but every detached academic conversation they had in the meantime left a sharp pain deep in her heart.

“Even if it’s strange?” He asked, moving to stand next to her bed and looking at the floor, uncertainty obvious in his every movement.

“Oh, you heard that?” He nodded. She stopped to think for a moment, before shuffling closer to him and trying to look at him under his hat. His blue eyes met hers almost reluctantly and she smiled warmly.

“Yes, even if it’s strange. Strange isn’t always bad.” she said, surprising herself with her certainty. She saw a small smile lift the corners of his lips.

“Okay. See you tomorrow then.” And with that he was gone again. It suddenly hit her – _Was there really just less pain while they were in the field, or was he giving her time to decide? Time to…miss him?_


	2. Humanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Cole's nightly visits to the Inquisitor continue, they work through the increasingly pressing matter of his dual nature.

Cole’s presence became a constituent part of her morning routine after that. Wake up, say hello to Cole, get dressed, keep the world from falling apart for another day. He would keep away when they were in the field, but even then would often be the first one to greet her in the morning with the same kind smile that graced his face every time he came to her quarters. In the midst of growing distress caused by the information they had managed to gather about the missing Grey Wardens, the small oasis of peace he offered every morning was more of a blessing then she could express. It was no longer simply about not being alone, it was about stability and safety. _He’s helping_ , she smiled.

The thoughts were humming peacefully in her head as they travelled to meet Hawke and Stroud in the Western Approach. She was grateful for the calm they instilled in her but didn’t yet realise how frail it was and how quickly the chaos that followed would take it away.

As they climbed the steps to the ritual tower the Grey Wardens occupied, demons came into view and she could feel the cold grasp of fear around her heart. She had seen worse spewing out of the rifts, but here, with the Wardens… _Have even the greatest fallen?_ As Erimond spoke of demon armies and enslaved Wardens, before letting his puppets prove his claims in blood, the desperate feeling that all good seemed to be slipping away from the world nearly overtook her. Later, as they walked back to the nearest camp, rushing to send word to Skyhold of the Wardens’ whereabouts, she could almost feel her legs give way under her. _They’re heroes, standing between us and all that is evil and dark… If they have fallen, what chance do we stand?_ She wobbled at every step and just as she was about to give in and allow herself to fall onto the burning sand, a pale hand gently pressed on her shoulder. She looked up to see Cole, eyes hidden in the surprisingly dark shade of his hat but smiling at her. It was less bright than she’d grown accustomed to, beaming joy replaced by a gentle something she couldn’t quite place, but it was there, nonetheless. And all the smiles she’d ever shared with him or their other friends, all the laughter came rushing to the forefront of her mind, images of a bright world, a world she could never give up on. He moved to her side, allowing Mivrae to steady herself against him, smile never leaving the corners of his mouth. _There is power in that smile…Does he know?_ she thought as they walked together through the sand.

After that, everything around her accelerated. They made the journey to Skyhold faster than ever before. By the time they got there, Leliana and Cullen already had battle plans ready. They would lay siege to the fortress of Adamant, get in and stop the Wardens from supplying an army to Corypheus in whatever way necessary. Maybe Warden-Commander Clarel would listen to reason, if not she would listen to a blade. She couldn’t imagine it, her, Mivrae Lavellan, First to a small Dalish clan in the Free Marches, leading an army against an ancient fortress and the most famous of the heroes of Thedas. It was dizzying and, for all her advisors’ encouragement that she rest and build up her strength for the coming battle, she couldn’t sleep. She spent her nights pouring over maps and battle plans and her days running around what felt like every member of the Inquisition, making sure they were prepared for the battle ahead. In her nervousness, she barely registered that Cole was once again staying away. Sleep didn’t even find her on the slow journey their army made towards Adamant. She’d stare at the mountains, she’d stare at the villages and once it was in sight, she’d stare at their target. And then they were there, and she must have been running on nothing but anticipation, but there was no time to be tired.

Running through the ancient walls of the citadel, fighting demons and wardens and trying to keep her men safe, fire and magic and stones turned into a blur around her, until finally she came face to face with Clarel and the horrifying image of the demon she was about to summon, kept away by nothing but the thinness of the Veil. She somehow found the words to convince the Wardens of their mistake and, just as she was about to let out the breath she felt she’d been holding ever since the Western Approach, the dragon appeared. Another blur of running, its fiery breath waiting behind every corner, Clarel and Erimond fighting and then they were falling. The power within her surged and the fade opened to welcome them.

Somehow, her memories of the fade were the clearest of the entire battle, but also the ones she wanted to dwell on the least. She was glad to finally know what had happened at the Conclave, but the Nightmare, while banished now, had touched them all, even those who weren’t in the fade with her. Stroud had sacrificed himself and his death weighed heavily over all of them. She could see Cassandra struggle to make sense of what they had seen, almost as if her very faith was hanging in the balance. Solas seemed the least affected, more fascinated by their physical incursion than anything else and scribbling hurriedly in a book for the entire journey home, as if worried his memory would fail him later. And Cole, Cole was nowhere to be seen. She was sure she had seen him walk with them away from Adamant, but once the army was on its way, he’d melted away among the soldiers. She could remember the panic in his voice clearly as they found themselves in the Fade. How different it must have been for him, to be there but not part of it… He had seemed almost scared. And then the Nightmare’s words, calling them alike, she couldn’t help but worry about what effect it may have had on the spirit. She resolved to find him as soon as they reached Skyhold, even if it meant surveying every soldier caravan going in.

Alas, things never went that smoothly for the Inquisitor. As soon as they stepped foot in the courtyard, Leliana and Josephine physically dragged her and Cullen into the war room. Hours were spent trying to make sense of Corypheus’ plans, to find a way to stop the unknown threat. By the time they stopped, far from done but too tired to think clearly, the sun was melting into the horizon. Mivrae started to make her way towards the inn, determined to check on Cole before allowing herself the collapse she felt coming. She barely stepped out of the great hall when she spotted Cole hurriedly walking behind Solas down the steps, looking significantly more agitated than she’d ever seen him before, even when the entirety of Corypheus’ Red Templar army had been at his heels. She rushed towards them, catching glimpses of their conversation as she got closer:

“But you like demons!”, Cole almost shouted behind Solas.

“I enjoy the company of spirits, yes. Which is part of why I do not abuse them with bindings.” Solas replied, calm and determined.

“It isn’t abuse if I ask.” He sounded calmer, but still on the edge of panic.

“Not always true. Also, I do not practise blood magic, which renders this entire conversation academic.” A hint of anger made its way into Solas’ voice, just as Mivrae reached them. When Cole noticed her, he made a beeline for her.

“He won’t bind me. He’s a mage and he likes demons but he won’t help.” His voice seemed on the point of breaking and Mivrae’s heart with it. He seemed so desperate and helpless, such a departure from the surprisingly peaceful, almost confident aura he normally had. She wanted to reach out and help him in any way she could, but at the same time her thoughts were racing. _Bind him? Like the demons at Adamant? Why would he want that?_

“If Solas won’t do the ritual to bind me, someone else could. _Will_. Like the Warden mages. And then… I’m not me anymore.”

Realisation flowed over her. _He doesn’t want that… but he doesn’t know another way out either._

“We’ll find a way to keep you safe without binding you, Cole.” She hoped the words would help, but as she saw his face fall slightly, she knew they weren’t enough.

And then, as always, Solas’ knowledge provided the solution. A Rivaini amulet and protective charms. Cole would stay himself, no need for blood magic or bindings. Admiration for the other elf swelled in Mivrae’s chest yet again, but she managed to push the infatuation away, focusing instead on Cole.

“Good.” was all he said before determinedly walking away. She considered following but decided to give him some space. He had seemed to want that more than usual lately, she thought, finally realising she had barely seen him at all in the time before the siege. Instead, she asked Solas for details of the amulet and its powers, descriptions and places it may be found. Anything she could give Leliana to speed up finding it. She wouldn’t allow Cole to live in fear of himself for any longer than required.

***

When she reached her quarters, weeks of exhaustion quickly pulled her into what by rights should have been a deep dreamless sleep. However, all the memories of Adamant she struggled to push down came unbidden to her dreams… _Spiders crawling around her, under her, on her…The grisly crunch of Warden-Commander Clarel’s bones in the maw of the dragon, before it flew straight towards her, fire lighting up between them…The Nightmare’s monstrous, bloated body swallowing Stroud up whole, all the while calmly whispering her deepest fears in her ear…_ She woke with a start, a scream caught in her chest. Her breath came heavily as she looked around, reassuring herself that her dream had been just that. She almost didn’t see him at first, a shadowed figure in the moonlight, as still as a statue. His features were completely swallowed by the darkness, the distinctive outline of his hat his one giveaway.

“Cole? What are you doing here? It’s not morning yet…” She said without thinking. She regretted the words as they left her mouth. Even after all that happened, all he was struggling with, she still expected him to come bring comfort to her morning. _Am I that selfish?_

If he noticed her poor choice of words, he ignored it entirely. “Blood and fire…Death and fear, the smell mixing in the air… Adamant haunts you.”

A tired laugh came to her lips. “It does. It haunts all of us, I think.”

“Hmm… Cassandra and Leliana both mourn Justinia anew. Cullen mourns his men. Blackwall mourns the wardens…”

“What about you?” Mivrae took the opportunity to ask, a memory of his panic in the Fade surfacing in her mind.

As always, he answered more her thoughts than her words.

“I forgot much of the Fade when I came here. But when I was there, I belonged and I understood. Now I was there, but not. Skin, a barrier to belonging. Thoughts, a barrier to understanding. I was home, but I was lost. I didn’t like it.”

He had come closer as spoke and she could now make out his face in the dark. His voice was mostly neutral, the same slightly hurried tone he normally used when describing feelings, his own or others’. In his eyes, however, she could see flitting the ghost of the fear he had felt. _Fear… the Nightmare said they were alike. Is that...?_

Once again, she didn’t need to speak the question.

“I am **not** like him.” His voice was completely steady now, his eyes on the verge of narrowing, as close as she’d ever seen him to anger. For a while it felt like that was all he had to say, but just as she was about to ask another question he added, his voice less sure and his eyes almost asking for reassurance. “I help people, he feeds on them. It’s not the same.” There was defeat in his voice, as if that argument would never be strong enough. With that he sat at the foot of her bed, staring at his feet.

Mivrae leaned forward and rested what she hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not, I didn’t mean to imply it was.”

Cole tilted his head slightly towards her hand, before staring out through her open balcony doors. They stayed like that for a while, the silence companionable, aside from the question still rattling around Mivrae’s head. When it became obvious he would not answer it unprompted, she asked:

“When you were talking to Solas before, would you really have liked that? For him to bind you?”

“I don’t want to hurt people again. If the others bind me, I will. Solas wouldn’t make me do it. That’s all that matters.” he replied, his voice heavy. Was it fear, sadness? Mivrae couldn’t quite tell, but she could tell it had not been a yes. As she expected.

“It does matter, Cole. If Solas had been willing to bind you, we wouldn’t have learned of a better way and you would have lost your freedom.”

“He would have given me the freedom to help people. That’s who I am, I help people. I don’t need more.”

“And if he didn’t?”

“He wouldn’t have given me the freedom to hurt people. That means more.” He suddenly turned towards her as he said that, eyes burning with intensity. “You have to promise. If I hurt people again, you must kill me. Nobody gets hurt because of me.”

 _Again? What is he talking about?_ Now was not the time to ask however, so she focused on his request instead. She could see the answer he wanted in his eyes.

“I promise I will stop you.” She answered, keeping her gaze steady. _Will he know that’s not the same?_ Whether he did or not, his eyes moved away from hers again.

“Good.” A short pause, followed by “You should sleep now, you’ve missed too many nights.”

She was caught off guard by the change in subject, but he was right. Sleep was pulling at her again and all she wanted to do was give in.

“What will you do?” she asked as she settled back into her pillows.

“Stay. The dreams will come back if I leave.” There was finality in his words and she had no will left to argue anyway. Instead, she just let the notion of a kind guard - perched at the end of her bed, defending her from the monsters in her dreams - curve her lips into a smile, which she took with her into her long-awaited rest.

***

She woke up feeling rested for the first time in far too long. The sleep had pushed all her troubles far from her mind and she clung to the feeling, turning to bury deeper into her pillows. As she did so, she felt the warmth of the sun on her bed. _It must be so late…_ The thought flitted through her mind, not enough for her to relinquish the comfort of darkness. _Comfort…_ Yes, beyond the comforting feeling of silk and soft pillows warmed by the unusually kind sun, there was another feeling, shining brightly at the edges of every thought. Mivrae was not alone. The realisation was not unsettling, as she knew exactly who was there. _Cole._ For the first time in a long time, she woke up in Skyhold without him sat on her bed. However, she could feel his presence as clearly as if he had been. _Another spirit trick?_ she wondered, as curiosity finally won out and she slowly opened her eyes.

The sun was indeed high in the sky, its brightness almost painful to Mivrae’s eyes as she searched her room for Cole. Her eyes finally found him on the balcony, sat with his legs through the stone bars of the railing, half hidden by one of the pillars between her large windows. As she focused on him, she could hear the soft rhythmic tap of his feet against each other. She got out of bed, wrapped a blanket left against her sofa around herself and walked out into the chilly mountain air.

“The nightmares stayed away.” He said as she approached.

“They did, thank you.” she smiled. “Have you been here all night?”

“Most of it. I was inside for some of it.” He answered earnestly, as if the distinction was truly important. With that he sat up and smiled brightly at her. Bright enough she almost missed the worry still swimming under the icy surface of his eyes. “I helped.”

“How did you do it? I knew you were here, almost like I could see you in my mind.”

“I can make people forget me. I can also make them remember me more. It doesn’t usually help.”

He answered simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I have to go. The surgeon has lost her tools.” He offered, before disappearing.

She had become used to this, but for some reason his departure now brought a sting to her chest. The idea of Cole disappearing hurt. She had to help him stay safe, anything less would not do.

***

Cole’s presence in her mind almost completely replaced Cole’s presence in her bed over the course of the next few days. He would appear as soon as the nightmares of Adamant began to form in her mind. Sometimes she would wake up to him gently stroking her hair or her shoulder, sometimes his comforting presence would just chase the dreams away, replacing them with the certainty that he was there. She would wake up to that certainty, only to find him standing or sitting somewhere random in her room, hands or feet fidgeting quietly. _Is he restless?_ she wondered. After all, they had yet to find the amulet that his fate now seemed tied to.

Every morning she would walk into the war room hoping for news about the amulet. And finally, the day came when Leliana finished her report with “Oh, and that Rivaini trinket you wanted has arrived.” and handed her a simple amulet. She didn’t bother to ask for the details of its acquisition, hurriedly thanked her advisors and rushed to find Cole. _Finally, he’ll feel safe,_ she thought excitedly.

Her excitement was short lived however, crushed as Solas’ attempts to enchant the amulet failed. She looked at him hopefully, expecting him to find a solution as always. But all he could offer was:

“Something is interfering with the enchantment.” His voice betrayed his lack of knowledge on the matter and panic built in Mivrae’s chest. _What if we can’t help?_

“Something like Cole not being a demon?” Varric’s sarcastic voice interrupted.

Her mind immediately clung to the idea – was it possible? Could Cole have embodied a human so thoroughly that he had become one? Or enough of one that he was immune to the amulet and maybe the binding ritual as well? Solas was disparaging of the concept, but before more debate was possible, Cole interjected.

“I don’t matter. Just lock away the parts of me someone else could knot together to make me follow.” His voice was impatient, almost desperate and Mivrae hurt for him. Now was not the time for discussion, they had to help. Thankfully, and somewhat unexpectedly, Varric and Solas agreed and when Cole mentioned he felt something inhibiting the amulet and pointed vaguely in a direction, they pointed him to a map, before going back to their argument.

“He came into this world to be a person, let him be one.”

“This is not some fanciful story, child of the stone. We cannot change our nature by wishing.”

Mivrae listened quietly. They were both deeply invested and she was glad Cole had found people to care for him like this, unlike many of their companions, who found him somewhere between strange and frightening. But which one of them was right? Would Cole be safe just by being himself? And if not, what would have to change to make him safe? Her questions had to wait however, as Cole came back with a confused Cullen in tow and a route towards a small Orlesian village, a few hours away from the mountains.

***

Cole claimed the man had killed him. He then clarified that he had embodied a mage boy the man had left to die, but the initial anger in his voice made it clear, he felt as if the man had killed _him_. And he wanted revenge. She had never seen such a negative emotion in him before, not even as he efficiently and bloodily dispatched their enemies in combat, and for the first time since she met him, she found him frightening. She turned to Solas, once again hoping his knowledge would make everything clear.

“Cole’s death wounded him, perverted him from his purpose…To regain that part of himself, he must forgive.”

“You don’t just forgive someone killing you,” Varric interrupted, mirroring Mivrae’s thoughts.

“ **You** don’t. A spirit can.” Solas’ answer seemed final. There would be no arguing.

“The kid’s angry, he needs to work through it.” Varric continued, purposefully ignoring Solas’ cues.

“A spirit does not work through emotions, it embodies them.”

“But he isn’t a spirit, is he? He made himself human and humans change. They get hurt and they heal.”

They were at a standstill. And as always, for all the arguing and opinions, the decision came to Mivrae. She felt uncomfortable in her new role as seemingly absolute judge, particularly in matters as personal as this. However, now was not the time to shy away from a decision. She could see Cole staring at her expectantly, pain etched into his every feature. And suddenly, the answer was obvious. Over the last few months, she had seen him happy and uncertain and scared and now angry. And he had not become any of those things, through it all he had stayed Cole. He was more than a feeling, he was more than compassion, he was Cole. And she knew he wanted to remain Cole.

“He needs to face his past and come to terms with it. If he chooses to forgive or not, that is up to him, but I would not make him forget.” She spoke gently, but determinedly, all the while looking at Cole for any sign of his feelings on the matter. However, he remained unreadable under the anger.

“Leave it to me.” Varric said and gently guided Cole towards where the templar had run to. They were back a few minutes later, Cole’s face still a mask of pain, but a warm smile on Varric’s lips, as he silently gestured for them to head back. They walked like that, in silence, all the way back to Skyhold. As they reached the citadel, Cole disappeared. Both Mivrae and Solas turned questioningly to Varric.

“The kid will be fine,” he said, “He just needs some time.”

“The amulet will now never function. Cole remains vulnerable to binding.” Solas replied, annoyance clear in his tone.

As Varric tried to convince him that Cole’s humanity would protect him, the boy returned, holding on to his sides.

“It still hurts. When do I stop hurting?”

Mivrae leaned towards him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll help.” she said, trying to sound reassuring. Varric took that as his cue and took Cole away again, promising to help him put honey in Leliana’s wine even if people would start remembering now.

Mivrae smiled watching them walk away, convinced she had made the right choice despite Solas’ disapproving looks pulling heavily at her heart. Maybe if he knew what she knew, he would understand. But she could not admit any of it to him without making her infatuation with him obvious at the same time as admitting she spent every night with another man. However that conversation went, it would not end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Built around in-game dialogue for Cole's personal quest.


	3. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole struggles with the strength of his human emotions and the Inquisitor wonders if she made the right choice. Not quite canon.

What an amazing thing a long, warm bath was. After weeks spent in their campaign against Adamant and the last few days worrying about Cole, Mivrae was happy to finally relax, if only for a while. She was finishing braiding her damp silvery blonde hair in her small dressing room, when she heard shuffling from her bedroom. Cold air rushed to her fingertips for a second, before a presence she’d become accustomed to washed over her. Instead of warmly calming her as it would normally do, it left her strangely on edge, like lying on a soft blanket atop shard of glass. It was Cole, that much was certain, but rather than an enveloping embrace she felt a weak tug at her mind. She walked out to find him standing close to her balcony as always. Candles enveloped the room in a warm light and in it she could see his face was a strange parody of the serene mask he usually wore. His eyes were red and swollen and he couldn’t quite force his mouth into a smile, however much it was obvious he tried.

“Cole? Are you okay?”

“Yes.” His voice was steady, but precarious, the pitch all wrong. “The inn was noisy. People drinking, laughing. Their thoughts loud and sharp from the alcohol. And all the noise inside me…” his voice almost broke there. “And if I’m here now, the dreams will not come at all. I can help more.”

Mivrae smiled sadly. He was obviously in pain, as he had been since their return to Skyhold, and trying to run from it. And even so he thought of helping. He could have gone somewhere else to be alone, after all. The stables Blackwall prowled around in or the library may have been better pools of silence than her room, with the adjacent Great Hall and her own nightmares. He had come here though and whatever his motivation, Mivrae resolved to try and be the one to help him, for once.

“Does it still hurt?” she asked, walking slowly towards him.

“Yes… but Varric has been helping.” he added quickly. _So that I won’t worry?_ Mivrae wondered, but continued her questioning before he could respond to her thoughts.

“What has he been doing?”

“We went for a walk, he read me some of his latest novel, he tried to get me to drink, but it was too loud.”

“I see…” Mivrae was amused despite herself. _So like Varric to resort to alcohol sooner rather than later._ “Can I suggest something else?”

Cole tilted his head questioningly.

“Distractions are all well and good, but sometimes you need to face the pain head-on, let it take over, let it out.”

“Let it out?” he asked, his voice scared and hopeful at the same time.

“You’re struggling to fight it, to pretend it’s not there, to smile for me… and I’m guessing for Varric too. Just stop.”

“But you don’t want me to hurt.”

She had been right, he knew his pain hurt them too, so he tried to hide it.

“We want to help, Cole.” Her words were gentle, but decisive. “We can’t help if you keep hiding.” With that, she rested both her hands on his shoulders, staring earnestly into his eyes. And that was all it took. Tears began streaming down his face and he fell to his knees with a quiet sob. Mivrae knelt in front of him, keeping her hands on his shoulders. For a while he only cried harder, sobs racking his body and leaving him shaking. He choked and gasped, not knowing when to breathe between the hoarse cries. Mivrae struggled to look at him, so different was this broken creature from the Cole she knew, who, for all his empathy, always seemed to float, aloof, above the realities of human pain. However, she forced herself to keep his eyes on him, warm and encouraging, knowing full well that looking away would only increase his guilt.

Mivrae wasn’t sure after how long, but eventually he calmed down enough to be able to catch his breath. She stood and pulled him up by the arm. There was no resistance and his eyes didn’t leave the floor. She put an arm around him as best she could ( _I had never realised he was so tall… It is a human’s body after all…_ ) and walked him to the sofa. She sat him down and removed his hat. He looked up at this and she could see the tears still flowing. She sat beside him, rested his head on her shoulder and took one of his hands in hers, rubbing soft circles into the back of it, like her mother used to when she was sad. They stayed like that until the first rays of sunlight made their way over the mountains. Mivrae may have dozed off a few times, but she knew Cole had not. However, when light began pouring into the room, he almost jumped up.

“You spent all night helping me.” His voice sounded raspy and dry, but obviously surprised. He continued in a quiet whisper that Mivrae wasn’t sure was meant for her ears. “I chased the nightmares away and stole your sleep instead. I’m sorry.” He turned to her, looking deeply apologetic.

Mivrae ignored his apology, asking instead: “Did it help then?”

He seemed unsure for a moment, searching for words.

“Yes. The tears flowed and the pain with them. Loud, hard, sharp, but then soft, numb, lighter. It still hurts, but less, further away.”

“Good.” Mivrae smiled. “I’m glad you feel better, I can always catch up on sleep later.”

He managed a small smile. “I have to find Varric. He’s worried. He shouldn’t be.”

He left swiftly as always, practically disappearing in a puff of smoke. _Nothing more human about that…_ Mivrae thought.

***

In fact, Mivrae noticed over the following days, very little had actually changed about Cole following their adventures. There was a new brand of pain in his eyes, but it seemed to be slowly ebbing away. He still appeared and disappeared from her room unnoticed. He had taken to arriving just before Mivrae fell asleep. His timing was impeccable, he would materialise in her room just as she was slipping into unconsciousness, early enough for her to know he was there but nothing else. And in the morning, he disappeared exactly as she woke up. This made her fairly certain his ability to read others’ thoughts was unimpaired, as was quickly confirmed by a few stories of people being helped in surprising ways by a strange young man. That was one difference, more people seemed to be talking about him than before. _Can he not make them forget anymore?_ She really wanted to ask, but he never gave her the opportunity. Was he avoiding her on purpose? The thought worried her a little, but then she remembered his soothing presence, quietly permeating through all of her dreams. _He doesn’t seem upset with me, I should just give him time_.

As it turned out she didn’t have to wait very long. While plans were being made against Corypheus, they answered a call for help from the Emprise de Lion. It relatively quickly escalated into a full-blown campaign against the Red Templars in the area, her small party slowly pushing through their ranks. They had just taken over one of their larger establishments and made camp in it. The Iron Bull and Solas had both quickly retired to their tents, their desire for sleep undoubtedly driven by very different motivations. She had set up her own tent, but the soft hum of the red lyrium in the air unsettled her. She would get no sleep tonight. _Again…_ she thought bitterly. She decided to go back outside and survey the area. The darkness was no problem, as the red lyrium glowed ominously across the snowy hills, giving the Red Templar camps away easily. As she walked out, she noticed Cole sitting by the campfire, staring intently into the flames and lightly tapping one of his feet.

“Cole? Why are you still outside?”

“You all went inside to sleep. I don’t sleep.” He answered, the first words he’d spoken to her in almost a fortnight. She was glad to hear his voice had recovered its serene, matter-of-fact quality. “And the red song is quieter in the light…”

“The red lyrium? Can you hear it?”

“Hmm…”, he nodded. “It hums, in the air, in the rock. In my head, in my bones. It’s loud. Louder than the tavern on a busy day. But the fire quiets it a little.”

She walked closer to him and laid a hand on his shoulder, worried questions flooding her mind and dying on her lips. She had never considered how the red lyrium might affect Cole, how its evil may pull at his nature. She had brought him along hoping to distract him from his own pain, but perhaps he would have been better served by a few quiet weeks at the keep. Perhaps she was putting him even more in harm’s way than she did her other companions. More than she was prepared to.

He turned his head slightly to face her. “I am okay.” His voice was steady and unusually direct. There were no doubts or lies in it or in the one blue eye she could see.

“Okay. Do you mind if I join you? It’s been keeping me awake too.”

He shifted slightly on the box he was sitting on, making room for her. She sat down and they both stared into the flames for a while. She wanted to ask him more about how he was feeling, but she wasn’t sure it was the time. He seemed distracted by the red lyrium and…

“I am fine. With the red song… and with my song. You shouldn’t worry.”

She turned to stare at him. She should be used to this, but it always took her by surprise. _Should I apologise for prying?_ He ignored her thoughts that time.

“You seemed to avoid speaking to me. I wasn’t sure if…” _If what? If you’re settling into the humanity I partly forced upon you fine? If you need more help changing the very fibers of your being? If you’re upset with me for putting you through this pain?_ The train of thought surprised her. For all the certainty she had felt when they had come back, seeing him break like that had made her wonder if he would have been happier as a spirit.

“I’m not upset. I… I couldn’t smile.”

“I’m sorry?” He seemed to admit he was avoiding her, but what did smiling have to do with it?

“I couldn’t smile. Everything hurt and smiling hurt more. It makes you happy when I smile and I couldn’t. You would have worried, it was better if you didn’t see.”

Mivrae was stunned. Every time she thought she was closer to understanding him, he surprised her again. It was predictable that he hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but for him to care about such a little thing. Her heart flooded with warmth.

“Thank you, Cole, but you didn’t have to. I would have understood.” she said, putting a hand on his arm again.

He stared at it for an instant, before turning towards her and sketching a small smile.

“And see, you can smile!”

“Yes, I can now. Thank you.”

_What exactly is he thanking me for?_

As the silence stretched on, Mivrae decided to take the opportunity and ask the other questions that had been on her mind.

“So… has anything changed since your meeting with the templar?”

“I am still me.”

“Solas thought it would make you different.”

“I was already different. He wanted me to forget that. To act as if I wasn’t myself to regain myself.” There was no anger or regret in Cole’s voice, he was merely stating facts. Mivrae realised he must have known all along exactly how Varric and Solas wanted to help. He had been distracted, but their emotions had been so strong, he couldn’t have missed it.

“Do you know what he would have wanted you to do?”

“I would have made the templar forget. He would be free of guilt and pain and so would I.”

_That doesn’t sound too bad._

“What did happen when you caught up with the templar?”

“He remembered, he was scared. Varric gave me Bianca. To shoot, to kill, to heal. I didn’t. He was ashamed, he was sorry. I forgave him. He was happy, lighter, free. I was not. Bianca hadn’t been loaded anyway, but Varric was happy I didn’t try to shoot.”

Mivrae smiled. She could see how Varric had planned it. The expected release of pulling the trigger, only for all the anger and pain to stay the same. He would have never let Cole carry the guilt of the shot with him. “I’m glad too.”

“Everything was more clearer, sharper. Pain, regret, weakness. The sheath pulled away and the knife stabbing. Not just a memory of a dying boy, but mine. Me. Still me. The boy can’t forgive anymore, but I can. His pain can’t heal anymore, but mine can.” He smiled again at that, a small, hopeful twist of his lips against the sadness that slowly filled his voice. Mivrae found herself smiling with him, hand on his arm squeezing slightly to reassure him that, yes, he would heal.

“People seem to remember you more, now. Can you still make them forget?”

“I can. But Varric says if I want to be real, people have to remember me. And sometimes I can help better if they do. I bring the berries she likes to Mother Giselle. She’s scared because I am a stranger. Now she remembers. I’m the boy who brings berries. She smiles.”

So indeed, nothing had changed. Mivrae felt more at with her choice again. She had made so many uncomfortable, world shaking decisions lately, she did not want to add altering Cole’s nature, potentially against his desires, to the list. She was happy to know he had been aware of the options, that it at least felt like he could have acted against her encouragement if he’d wanted to. But just as one worry dissipated from her mind, another began to form. _Is his nature enough to keep him safe?_ Images of him falling prey to Corypheus’ magic flitted across her mind, panic taking over her. _Have I condemned him?_

She was shaken from her thoughts physically to find Cole’s bright eyes staring intently into her own and his hands gently gripping her arms. It surprised her how physical his touch was. Almost every other time he had touched her it had been gentle half-caresses as she was sleeping, but now she could feel there was strength behind his grip. _Of course there is. What was I expecting, a ghost?_ “I’m sorry, I…”

“Futures seeping in your thoughts, pushing away the present. They’re not real, but still dangerous to lose yourself in.” He had let go of her and returned to watching the fire. “I’m sorry I shook you, you couldn’t hear me.”

“But what if they become real, because I made the wrong choice?”

“They won’t. Varric was right. I’m not demon enough to protect, or to bind anymore.”

“Are you sure, Cole?”

She had been expecting him to immediately reassure her, but he said nothing. _He’s not…_

Worry settled in her chest, but they both remained silent. Mivrae staring at Cole, Cole staring at the fire…They had no way of knowing if he was safe until it was too late and the knowledge rested heavy on Mivrae’s shoulders. Was he worried too? She couldn’t tell. The flames reflected off the icy surfaces of his eyes and in that moment they had no depth. They were perfectly still pools, reflecting everything above, but hiding everything underneath. Compared to the depths of emotion she had seen in his eyes over the previous weeks, they seemed almost empty. She took a deep breath and broke the silence.

“We’ll keep you safe, Cole.”

She almost expected him to remind her that the safety of others was more important than him, but he simply looked at her and nodded.


	4. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas warms up to the Inquisitor and Cole knows more than he'd like.

The return to Skyhold was, as always, a joyous event. Their incursion in the Emprise had left the Red Templars all but vanquished from the area. They were greeted by many grateful faces, all ready to join in the celebration of the Inquisition’s latest success. Beyond the inevitable revelry, Mivrae was looking forward to a night spent away from the sickening song of red lyrium. And while she enjoyed the company of her friends in Skyhold, she found herself edging towards the door leading from the great hall to her chambers, one smiling conversation at a time. She was thwarted a few times, once to lift Varric’s grim mood about the extent of red lyrium spread, once by the Iron Bull offering her another unbearable Qunari drink, once by Josephine trying to introduce her to some noble or another…

Finally, she made it to the door and successfully slipped past it, closing it to the merry voices in the hall. She slowly made her way up the stairs and sat heavily on her bed. She didn’t hear him come in, but she knew Cole was there long before she saw him.

“What are you doing here, Cole? You should be celebrating with the others.”

“It’s nice here, quiet. But there are no friends. You didn’t want to be alone.”

It was disconcerting at times, how hard it was to get away from Cole’s ability to slip into her mind. She wished he’d just go and enjoy himself, but she didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead she just closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. She heard Cole shuffling and half-opened an eye to see him sat cross-legged on the rug. Unusually, he spoke first.

“The lyrium doesn’t sing here. Only people’s thoughts, humming. It’s good.” His eyes were also half closed and he was slowly swaying back and forth.

“It is. Is that what other’s thoughts sound like to you?”

“Yes, but thoughts are not usually evil. They hurt, they rage, sometimes they even hate, but they’re not evil. That song is.” He seemed to shudder slightly.

“We’ll stop it. We’ll stop Corypheus and all the evil he’s brought with him.” Mivrae felt her muscles tense as she sat up straight, determination slipping on naturally, a mask to hide the fear and despair, the tiredness, all the darkness that crept and crawled inside of her. Cole turned to study her carefully. He looked a little taken aback and he was peering slightly to the side, almost like he was trying to see where the façade she put on ended and she began. When he seemed satisfied with his examination he stood up, nodded and offered her a hand.

“We will, but not tonight. Tonight you should rest. There will be no Corypheus, no visitors, no creeping songs. I promise.” As she looked up at him he smiled lightly, his face holding the same promise as his words. She took his hand and she felt the world shift around her as he dragged her through the Fade before she could object. As the world regained its structure she found herself in her bed, comfortably tucked between pillows and her heavy duvet. She knew she should have got up and changed out of her travel clothes, but tiredness seemed to seep out of her very bones, making her body heavy and her mind blurry. She saw Cole smile gently again and vaguely step away, only to be replaced by a shining presence on the edge of her consciousness

“Thank you, Cole.” She said, or mumbled, or thought as she fell asleep. His aura around her grew slightly brighter for an instant and she knew he’d understood.

***

As Mivrae recovered from her long-running exhaustion, she started waking up in the middle of the night. Not from nightmares, or ever unpleasantly, as Cole watched dutifully over her journeys in the Fade. She had never been a deep sleeper and when she was with her clan she would often find herself awake at odd hours. Back then she would let the twinkle of the stars and the noises of the forest lull her back to sleep. In Haven and when they’d first arrived in Skyhold, the quiet nights in enclosed human settlements had often been long and sleepless, but as they had settled in she had learned the sounds of her new home – fewer animals rustling in the trees, but instead the noises of people, music often sounding from the tavern late into the night, guards’ whispers travelling through the stone halls of the keep, the cold mountain wind howling outside her window. They had soothed her insomnia for a while before exhaustion and excitement meant she either spent full nights working and worrying or slept like a log. Being able to peacefully wake up again and take in the night was a small blessing she was very grateful for.

She realised she had been assuming that Cole was relatively still during the night. She rarely woke up to him in the same place as he had been when she fell asleep, but she could at most imagine him pacing through the room or sitting nervously on the balcony. A silly thought in retrospect, and one that proved how little she knew and how much she assumed about him. She was nevertheless surprised to find that he actually kept quite busy during the night. She’d woken up to find him examining various objects around her quarters (she was sure he’d actually woken her up one time by dropping something, but other than his flustered demeanour the following morning, she had no proof). Quite often she noticed him reading books from her bookshelf in the light of a candle carefully stashed behind her desk, so it wouldn’t wake her.

One day, he left the book he had been reading open on her desk. Mivrae was intrigued to find it was a relatively complex magic treatise. _Is he interested in magic?_ Turning to face the shelves though, she realised that his interests probably had little to do with it, since “magic treatise” was just about the only available genre. In Skyhold with her mage allies, she had access to knowledge that would have never been available to a Dalish Keeper and she had quickly decided to make the most of it. _Maybe some variety wouldn’t hurt though…_ She should find out what Cole liked and get some new books, he spent so much time caring for her, it was the least she could do.

***

“You’ve been reading my books.” She said as she was lying in bed the following evening, letting the last of the candle’s warm light wash over her. He had been staring intently at a crack in the floor, but his head snapped towards her when she spoke.

“Yes. Varric says reading will help me learn, help me understand people better. Make me more real.” His voice got quieter with the last sentence and Mivrae could sense confusion and sadness drip into it.

“You are real, Cole.” She answered quickly, willing her face and thoughts to convey as much reassurance as possible. She then stood up, walked to the shelves and added with a laugh in her voice. “But if understanding people is what you’re after, I doubt my books help much there, they’re not really about people.”

“They were written by people.” Cole answered and when Mivrae narrowed her eyes slightly in confusion, he walked to the open book on the desk and started leafing gently through its pages. “Short sentences, efficient, sharp. Wounded pride at the commission. He’s a mage, not a botanist, why would the Senior Enchanter make him waste hours on the properties of every plant in the tower gardens? He doesn’t understand the lesson, but then he meets her in the garden. Hair flowing and hands smelling of elfroot. And the chapter on elfroot is long and flowing and flowery, written for her, not for him. And she loves embrium, so for it his words are of fire and joy and passion, a love letter he could never write but hopes she’ll read anyway.” As he finished speaking, his eyes rose from the pages to Mivrae’s face, her eyes slightly wide in surprise.

She had noticed the stilted, discontinuous style of that particular book herself, but Cole’s otherwordly piercing depth still came as a surprise. “That’s true, I guess. Still, probably not quite what Varric had in mind. I can get some more entertaining books for you if you’d like?”

He turned his gaze to where his hand was resting on the book, then back to her. “I enjoy reading your books. They tell tales meant for you… But thank you. I wonder what tales a book meant for me tells.” He smiled, the warm, happy smile that Mivrae was becoming convinced was enchanted in some way. She smiled back, slowly falling asleep to a lullaby of books Cole may like.

***

After Mivrae filled half her shelves with adventure novels and poetry, not forgetting a few penned by their resident dwarven wordsmith, Cole began reading even more. Before, every morning he would be waiting for her to wake up, whatever nightly hobby he had engaged in safely tucked away. Now, she would often wake up to see him deep in a book and it would often take as much as her getting out of bed for him to notice. He always seemed embarrassed, like he’d failed at an important duty, but it made Mivrae happy he was enjoying himself. She thought he must know it, since he never apologised.

There were also nights when Cole was still. He would sit or lie on her bed and spend the entire night physically watching over her. In time she had realised he did it whenever a day was particularly stressful or upsetting, whenever she came back to her quarters feeling close to breaking under the burdens of the Inquisition. What had started as an answer to a humanitarian call in Orlais had turned into a complicated political game that often took all of her focus to stay on top of. Leliana had made it clear that they would have to wade into the Grand Game sooner or later, and Mivrae was doing her best to be as prepared for it as a Dalish elf could possibly be. So when, after a long, frustrating night in the library, she woke up with his warm form next to her and his blue eyes gazing at her warmly, she felt infinite gratitude spread through her.

Her attention was soon dragged away from politics, however. Her troubled affection for Solas, mostly forgotten in the whirlwind of Adamant, had resurfaced recently, when the mage made an unusual appearance in her quarters. He seemed hesitant to ask for her time, which was in and of itself out of character. She led hi, to the balcony, where she had been reading in the warm afternoon light. He was pacing and almost avoiding her gaze as he finally asked,

“What were you like before the Anchor? Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your… spirit?” His voice rang with its usual academic interest, but she couldn’t miss the hesitation before the final word. She couldn’t quite understand what he was getting at, but then again, she rarely could with Solas, unless he wanted her to.

“I don’t believe so.”

“Ah.” He sounded disappointed. _Would it be better if it had? Do I have some inexcusable flaw that only Corypheus’ magic might justify?_ She let out an internal chuckle and almost asked out loud, but thought better of it. Solas never really appreciated that kind of joke.

“Why do you ask?” She asked neutrally instead, hoping to catch a glimpse inside the workings of his mind.

“You show a wisdom I have not seen since… Since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade. You are not what I expected.”

She had not been expecting that, either. While Solas seemed to generally approve of her decisions, it was with a certain detached air that spoke little of any particular admiration. She decided to push him slightly, as much to check her hearing as anything.

“What have I done that’s so surprising?”

“You have shown subtlety in your actions, a wisdom that goes against everything I expected. If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours… Have I misjudged them?”

There it was then, all coming back to his ingrained contempt for the Dalish. She had cleared his bar, but it had not been a high one. She was ready to be disappointed, angry almost, but something in his tone had made the praise seem real. And while this seemed to be gearing up to be another academic argument about elven traditions, she couldn’t help but warm at the flattery.

“I don’t hold the Dalish up as perfect, but we have something worth honouring. A memory of the ancient ways.”

“Perhaps that is it. I suppose it must be. Most people act with so little understanding of the world. But not you.” He’d agreed surprisingly fast, which, combined with the way he’d said _you_ at the end, leaden with meaning, left Mivrae somewhat off-balance.

“So what does this mean, Solas?” She asked.

“It means I have not forgotten the kiss.” He answered, voice calm and steady. Buried memories of the kiss they’d shared in a dream of Haven months before surfaced in Mivrae’s mind. She had not forgotten it either, despite her best efforts. Much like the rest of this conversation, its mention was unexpected. However, remembering the time she had spent pining over this while the world had a million more pressing problems, she decided she would make the most of the opportunity that was presenting itself.

She couldn’t stop herself smiling as she walked closer to him before whispering, in a tone she hoped matched his calm demeanour, “Good.”

Solas’ hand made a move to touch her, leaning forward, before shaking his head and pulling away again. She grabbed his arm as he turned away to leave.

“Don’t go.” she said, still quietly, her voice steadier than she felt, and yet with all her longing and sadness and hope pouring into those two words.

“It would be kinder in the long run.” he answered and, for the first time, she could feel her emotions mirrored in him, even as he was facing away from her. “But losing you would…” The sentence never finished as he turned around and kissed her, the kind of kiss that lasted forever, but not enough, that alone could almost make up for the months of waiting and worrying, that… Before she could get a hold of her thoughts he walked away again, elven words of love dropping seamlessly from his lips.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

With that he was gone, leaving her smiling wistfully behind him, confused, certainly, but also happier than she had been for months.

***

That had been weeks ago now, and the memory still permeated through most of her actions. She found herself still floating from the joy of it, war room meetings, scout reports and tedious consultations with local nobles all going past her in a shining haze. While they’d not spoken more of it since Solas had left her room that evening, their greetings in the Halls of Skyhold had a new warmth to them, a spark in Solas’ eyes that assured her this kiss, too, had not been forgotten. This knowledge that her affection was reciprocated was enough to give her new strength and focus that she poured wholeheartedly into the Inquisition.

(She would wonder, later, when this memory’s joy had died in the cold fires of betrayal and its ashes no longer burned to the touch, if this was all it had ever been. A carrot tied in front of her to rush her search for Corypheus. Another in a long series of tricks to help Solas reach his target. Cole would call her uncharitable when the thought crossed her mind, and earnestly assure her the love had been real, and, in time, a new smile came to her lips as she thought of it.)

Even her dreams revolved almost entirely around that moment. They replayed that afternoon and the dream of Haven and reshaped them into a hundred more similar scenarios, dreams of a rosy future past the shadow of Corypheus. It was almost obsessive, she thought sometimes. Which was perhaps why it took her so long to notice her dreams felt cold somehow. There was a dullness to them and it took her even longer to pinpoint what was missing. When she did, dark panic seeped into her dream, breaking apart her idyllic fantasy and pulling her awake in a cold sweat. _Cole? Is he…?_ Her thoughts were reeling with his absence and her eyes scanned her room quickly, cursing the darkness that hid everything from her. Her breath caught in her throat when she finally saw it, a weak light coming from outside her window. She got out of bed, barely feeling the cold stones beneath her feet and walked onto the balcony, where, surely enough, Cole was sat against one of the large glass windows, a book open on his knees and his hat shading a candle next to him. He was looking at her as she stepped outside, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion.

“You were sleeping. Wide smiles on familiar faces. The smell of halla and caravels. You were home… both of you. A good dream.”

Mivrae blushed slightly at his words, it was one of her more unrealistic fantasies, of taking Solas home to her clan, of him enjoying it. It _was_ a good dream.

“But you left it. Fear of absence…?” the confusion in his voice grew as he searched through her feelings.

“You weren’t there.” She explained, unable to really justify her panic now that she was fully awake. She had paid him no mind for a while, which in an of itself made regret coil tightly around her heart. But the idea that in that time he could have somehow disappeared, in the waking world as he had from her dreams, had terrified her. That it was unlikely had scarcely crossed her mind.

“Varric says I should stay out of things like that. Even dreams.”

Mivrae laughed slightly at his words. She felt a little silly now, why should he have been watching over that dream? It would have been strange if he had. If anything, he was being unusually discrete. She shook her head and a shiver passed through her, as she became aware of how cold the night actually was.

“You probably shouldn’t. It’s just that… You weren’t there and I suddenly worried that you had disappeared.” She felt her cheeks grow warm again.

“I’m here.” He answered, smiling reassuringly.

“Mhmm… People don’t make much sense when they’re asleep.” She saw him almost start to comment on that, but another question came to her and she was sleepy enough not to stop herself from asking.

“Why are you here though?” She realised how it came across the moment she said it out loud, but if Cole minded, he didn’t show it. He stared at his feet for a while, seeming to search for words in between the lacing of his boots.

“Reading is… easier here. The books are at home and it makes them welcoming. They don’t like the attic as much.” He paused for a bit, before adding. “And the nightmares might come back.”

_Still looking out for me, huh?_ Mivrae smiled widely at him. “You’re always welcome to read here, Cole. You should try it during the day sometime.” With that she walked back to the warmth of her bed and her dreams. And in them she could catch glimpses of it sometimes, not the shining presence from before, but a thin, meandering thread with Cole at the other end. Not intruding, but always ready to answer her call.

***

That was the first lie he’d ever told, Cole realised, as he carefully weaved his connection to Mivrae’s mind. Not a lie so much as an omission, but still… He could feel his heart speed up as he said it, felt the need to keep his eyes away from her. It had felt foreign, heavy on his tongue. But now it had been said and she’d returned to her happy dreams, as blissfully unaware of the heartbreak waiting on the other side of them as she had ever been. And as Cole settled back with his book, he could only hope Varric had been right.

He had in fact told Cole to stay out of things, when he’d asked. A simple truth to disguise the deceit, like all best lies. But they had not been talking about generic matters of the heart.

“She’s walking off a cliff, but she can’t see it.”, he’d said. “And he’s leading her by the hand. And the road is all she’s ever dreamed off, but it will end soon.”

“Is this a romance thing, kid?” Varric had asked, his heart warming like it always did around Cole.

“Are either of these people you? Or is the cliff literal?”

“No.” A pause to mark the move to the other question. “Probably not.”

“Well, kid, then there’s nothing to be done. Everyone has to go through their own heartbreak kid.”

“But I could tell her about the edge and then…”

“And then it’ll be as if you’ve thrown her over yourself. And these days, a little happiness where it comes is all anyone can ask for.”

So he’d kept quiet about all the dark thoughts he saw in Solas’ mind. About the regret he felt whenever he thought of her, for things he’d done, for things he was yet to do. Solas’ mind was strange, Cole thought. Labyrinths of thoughts anyone but him would get lost in. Even Cole. All he could do was wait. Wait and see what the cliff face would be and try to catch her as she fell, like he’d done before.


	5. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas breaks the Inquisitor's heart and, as they reach the end of their campaign against Corypheus, Cole begins picking up the pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based around in-game dialogue for Solas' romance and the end-game party.

After countless strings pulled by Josephine and Leliana, it finally arrived. An invitation to the Grand Masquerade, in an intricate envelope bearing the Empress’ seal. Suddenly, all of Skyhold was preparing. The members of the imperial court were studied, protocol was discussed, outfits were chosen. It would have been exciting, Mivrae thought, being invited to a party of a sort most people had never seen, if it didn’t all seem to be a cover-up for an assassination.

Still she tried to maintain a positive outlook in the run up to the event. A fashionable assassination attempt would still be better than some of the things she had had to deal with recently. Anywhere without Red Templars wandering about, she was happy to be. Besides, Leliana, Josephine and even Vivienne’s excitement at the prospect of the Masquerade was infectious. Yes, they would do their best to enjoy themselves, even if they had a murder to thwart.

And indeed, the evening itself turned out rather pleasantly. The Winter Palace in Halamshiral was beautiful and their search for clues had taken them everywhere. Duke Gaspard and Empress Celene had both been pleasant enough, more than she would have expected as an elf. She had even managed to show off her newly acquired Orlesian dancing skills while smooth-talking Duchess Florianne. All in all, Mivrae felt like she had truly played the Game and, as far as she could tell, she had played it well. The Duchess had been imprisoned and she had convinced Celene, Gaspard and Briala to all drop their petty intrigues and agree to rule together, hopefully for the good of the Empire. Celene had also reassigned her occult advisor to the Inquisition, and Mivrae was intrigued by the knowledge Morrigan had to offer. But all that would have to wait for another day. As the Masquerade died down around her, satisfaction at a job well done washed over her in a wave of tiredness that left her longing for nothing more than to get out of Josephine’s uniform and settle in for the journey back to Skyhold. So, when Solas had come to ask her to dance, she had almost rejected him in favour of a quiet moment. _What a mistake that would have been…_ she thought, as they twirled around the balcony to the distant music of the band and she felt the world fade away, leaving behind only them, happy to be in each other’s arms.

***

Lady Morrigan had indeed proven to be an invaluable font of knowledge. When she had first shown Mivrae the eluvian, she could barely contain her excitement. Such objects were the stuff of legends, and to see one functional was perhaps the most impressive feat of magic she had ever seen. To know Corypheus was seeking to corrupt such an artifact, to see more of what little elven history there was left destroyed by the whims of a power-hungry maniac had made her angrier than she thought she had the ability to be. For once, as the Inquisition’s forces marched on the Arbor Wilds, the fight felt personal.

The mixture of wonder and anger would follow her all through the temple, through ancient rituals in overgrown rooms, until she was standing on the edge of the Well of Sorrows. Generations of elven knowledge literally pooled at her feet. It was humbling to merely be in its presence and to partake in such knowledge was perhaps the greatest honour an elf could imagine. However, as Morrigan spoke of her own desire to drink from the Well, Mivrae realised that, unlike her, the woman in front of her had spent her entire life searching for this very moment. For Mivrae, the Well was an unexpected window into her collective past, welcome but, in the end, just another relic to study. The Dalish were, she had realised walking through the grand halls of the Temple of Mythal, not ancient elves and no amount of knowledge could bridge that gap. For Morrigan the well was itself a dear, tangible goal and Mivrae was sure that, in her hands, it would exact change. She feared perhaps what that change would be, but she could not allow her curiosity to stand in the way of a lifetime of hard work. So, she stepped back and let Morrigan drink.

Later, as they chased Morrigan’s son through the fade and Mythal revealed herself in Morrigan’s mother, Mivrae couldn’t help but think that it had in fact been fate, or at least the goddess’ intention that Morrigan become the keeper of her knowledge. There was, for better or for worse, a part of this story that did not involve her, that had never been meant to involve her, and she was happy to leave it that way.

***

Their foray into ancient elven history and magic had become the main topic of Mivrae’s conversations with Solas. Now she had precise things in mind, she felt more comfortable asking questions about the memories Solas claimed to have seen in the Fade. And it seemed to make him more comfortable with the answers, as well. He had asked her to join him on a trip to the Crestwood and they had spent most of the way there in a passionate discussion of eluvians and their implications on travel. He seemed to have seen so many broken one in the lost corners of the Fade, they must have been an impressive network.

As they walked into a cavern in Crestwood, Solas’ voice quieted, replaced by the rumble of flowing water. The cave itself was beautiful, Mivrae thought, as she tightened her hold on his hand slightly, it was funny how she hadn’t noticed the first time she had been here.

“The Veil is thin here. Can you feel it on your skin, tingling?” he asked, mirth evident in his voice and eyes, as he moved to gently caress her face, long fingers tracing the thin lines of vallaslin on her forehead.

“I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me.” he continued, serious again.

“I know what we mean to each other.” Mivrae answered. She understood how putting names to feelings could be difficult, especially for one more used to the company of spirits than people. Her relationship with Solas felt fragile enough as it was, without the pressure of foreign names to add to it.

“Even so… For now, the best gift I can offer is the truth. You are unique. In all Thedas I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade.” He spoke his words directly, determinedly, eyes not leaving her face. “You have become important to me. More important than I could have imagined.”

“As you are to me.” she answered. Simple, she thought, but if it was truth they were offering, she knew no better way to say hers.

“Then what I must tell you…” he hesitated, and a pinprick of worry blossomed in her chest. “The truth. Your face. The vallaslin. In my journeys in the Fade, I have seen things. I have discovered what those marks mean.”

“They honour the elven gods.” _But how is this relevant to us?_ she wondered, though she knew Solas well enough to accept the occasional mental detour as it came.

“No. They are slave markings.” He spoke with a certainty that shook her. “Or at least they were in the time of ancient Arlathan.”

“My clan’s Keeper said they honoured the gods. These are their symbols.”

“Yes. That’s right. A noble would mark his slaves to honour the god he worshipped. After Arlathan fell, the Dalish forgot.”

Emotions rushed through her. Sadness, knowing yet another Dalish tradition found its roots in murky waters. Disappointment at the knowledge that ancient elves would have engaged in as vile a practice. Anger, for all the same reasons. But even so, it did not matter, the vallaslin belonged to the Dalish now, was no more and no less than what they had made of it.

“Whatever the marks were before, the Dalish have reclaimed them. They mark me as one of them.”

“I know. For everything I have said about the Dalish, I admire that indomitable spirit.” He seemed to acquiesce. “I didn’t tell you this to hurt you. If you like, I know a spell… I can remove the vallaslin.”

Sadness, disappointment, anger - all came back again, now aimed at him. For all the Dalish did not understand of their past, he seemed to understand as little of their present. It saddened her, that while he cared for her, he seemed to know her very little, to offer such a gift.

“Even if what you’re saying is true, I don’t think I can just let you erase them.”

“I’m so sorry for causing you pain. It was selfish of me. I look at you, and I see what you truly are… And you deserve better than what those cruel marks represent.”

“I know you told me because you wanted to help, but the vallaslin is part of who I am.” She spoke, trying to accept the loving gesture for what it was, in spite of the hurt it caused her. “I hope you can see past-”

Solas began talking before she could finish her sentence, any hint that he may disapprove of her choice entirely hidden. “Stop. You are perfect exactly as you are.” He kissed her as he finished speaking, and she could feel all her upsets drift away in his embrace, her mind focusing only on his touch. She felt cold as he moved away, and even colder when she met his eyes.

“And I am sorry. I distracted you from your duty. It will never happen again.”

“Solas…”

“Please, vhenan.”

“Solas… don’t leave me. Not now. I love you.” She felt her world crumble as she said the words, knowing full well they would change nothing.

“You have a rare and marvellous spirit. In another world…”

“Why not this one?” she asked, and she felt every emotion she had for him pool in that question. Every memory, every dream, every hope turned to resentment, they all poured out with it. And all would remain just as answerless.

“I can’t.” Solas backed away from her, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.” He almost choked the words out before walking away.

Mivrae was left standing on the edge of the pool in the cavern, for a moment feeling nothing but the cold. Hearing nothing but the pouring water. Seeing nothing but the silhouette of the man leaving her. She wasn’t certain how long it was before she took her first step towards the exit to the cave. She felt hollow, ready to shatter at any touch. But with each step she took towards the light, she felt a numbness fill her, blanketing the raw cracks and drying the tears that threatened to fall. Her back straightened and her stride lengthened. By the time she came into the dim light of the Crestwood, she held herself confidently, cold determination burning in her eyes. She had a great task before her, one that did not allow for weakness. She would lead her army in their final battle. She would stop Corypheus. She would end this. And if there was anything left of her by the end, perhaps she would shatter.

***

The final preparations for the confrontation with Corypheus passed by quickly. The Inquisitor was focused and efficient, dealing quickly and calmly with any issue put before her. Without her noticing, mediating between her advisors had become second nature. As had managing the resources of the inquisition and encouraging her people, and her friends. As she stood at the head of an army marching against the greatest threat Thedas had ever known, she found she belonged there. She did it all almost without thinking and, as she stood face to face with Corypheus, throwing a sideways glance to Cassandra lifting her shield, she could barely remember how she got there. Still, as Varric loosed his first arrow and Dorian whispered his incantations, the same instinct pushed her into battle, spells forming at her fingertips as she drew her spectral blade with one hand and charged, fast, close and reckless, an assault that would make the Iron Bull proud. Corypheus fell, eventually. And as she stood above him, she felt her arms fall limp at her side and, in between her friends cheers and their supporting arms on her back, somewhere in the depths of her mind, a crack reopened.

They made their way back to Skyhold, tired and bloody but victorious and on the way, she took note of every friend that had stayed behind to help her soldiers. Vivienne looked as proper as always. Blackwall’s steps felt lighter than usual. She caught a glimpse of Cole carrying an injured scout. Solas was conspicuously absent and she knew somehow that she had seen the last of him. _For the best, perhaps_ she thought. Avoiding him was one skill that had never become second nature. Still, with every face she passed that was not his, the crack grew larger, its edges fraying and spreading.

***

By the time they made it back to the keep, tense faces had given way to full, happy smiles. And while she could feel her insides churning with half a dozen unspoken feelings, she allowed the lightness of those around her to keep her afloat, she basked in their cheers and applause as she walked into the courtyard and up to join her advisors. As their triumphal march devolved into an impromptu feast, she cheerfully flitted from one friend to another, listening to future plans and accepting any drink offered. She wholeheartedly congratulated Cassandra for her appointment as Divine and struggled to hide her sadness when Varric announced his impending departure for Kirkwall. Leliana came by periodically to let her know there was still no sign of Solas and Mivrae tried her hardest to accept the news as matter-of-factly as she could.

As the night drew on, she caught sight of a broad-rimmed hat towards the centre of the room. As she walked towards Cole, she felt the spring in her step dampen. _He’ll know…_ she thought. And unlike the others, no quantity of fake smiles, polite questions and alcohol-induced cheer would be able to hide her pain from him. She wondered in passing if she had been subconsciously avoiding him, keeping to the edges of the room and away from the central table he had perched on. Even as discomfort began building under her skin, she did not avert her course. She would not allow herself to run from a friend, not on a night like this. As she approached him, he began speaking with unexpected excitement.

“He tried to bind me, but it failed. Did you see it? Did you see me?”

His words felt like being shaken out of a haze. In her desperation to end Corypheus, to fix things, to make something right, she had forgotten about the risk Cole was taking to stand by her side. She firmly believed that Cole was something more complicated than a spirit, but they had never been certain if it would be enough to protect him. And when the time had come for his safety to depend on her, when she should have told him to stay away from the battlefield, she had allowed her own pain to blind her and she had failed him. And yet he had walked besides her, no sign of hesitation in his step. He had risked what he most feared for her and she had been too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice. Guilt and gratitude mixed warmly in her belly and almost brought tears to her eyes. _He’s not even brought it up and he’s made me cry…_

If Cole noticed her distress however, he did not show it, carrying on unperturbed.

“Demons are bound when you tell them what they are so loudly that’s all they can hear. They have to be what you want. But I know who I am now! I am me, thanks to you.” At that, he raised his head to face her and she could see his eyes glow warmly in the candlelight. He was grateful too, she could tell, to her, despite all her failures. She struggled to keep her voice from cracking as she answered,

“You did it yourself, Cole.” _I was merely there to watch it happen…_

“Maybe I did.” He answered, looking down as he considered her words carefully. Once he seemed satisfied, he looked back at her, now considering her with the same care. His expression changed slightly, worry seeping into his gleeful warmth, like he was just now becoming fully aware of her emotions. The satisfaction at having foiled Corypheus seemed an unusually strong emotion for Cole and others’ feelings must have been running just as high. Perhaps he had been distracted enough by all of it to miss Mivrae’s pain for once. Regardless, he had now obviously caught up. However, rather than the strange prying she was expecting, he asked gently, a hint of his previous excitement still in his voice,

“What happens next? Where do we go?”

Perfectly valid questions for the Inquisition under the circumstances, but she could feel the unspoken ones underneath. _How do I help? What do you need?_

“For tonight, we remind the world, and each other, that we’re alive.” She answered the spoken words, eyes moving to survey the others in the room. She hoped he’d understand that, for once, dealing with the problem head on would only bring more pain. Pain there would be time for later. He probed no further.

“Yes. Because of you.” He stressed the last word and Mivrae appreciated the reassurance he was trying to convey. “Thank you for letting me stay.” He ended, smiling slightly and once again, Mivrae could almost see the unspoken promise there, that he _would_ stay. She shook her head slightly.

“Thank you.” She looked away from him, following Iron Bull’s hulking form as he made his way out of the Great Hall. “I think it’s time I said my good nights.” She added, with a small smile. He nodded and she walked away, making the rounds one more time before walking up to her chambers. She dreaded the darkness that awaited her at the top of the stairs, the silence that would make it all real. The threat was gone, Corypheus defeated, Thedas safe. She had fulfilled her duty and was now, more than she had been in months, a free woman. Nothing to bind her, and nothing to keep her shattered heart together…

***

However, as she ascended the last flight of stairs to her bedroom, it was not darkness that greeted her. Instead, soft light shone from under her door. She felt her body tighten instinctively as she brought one hand to the door handle, the other shaping the beginnings of a spell. However, as she opened the door, no threat materialised. Instead, she found Cole, standing in the centre of the room, holding a solitary candle throwing long shadows across the walls. She was not surprised he was there, not really. While he had been unusually subtle in the hall, she knew by now he would never be far away if she was hurting. And for all she did not want to face the spiralling mess building up inside her, she did not want to be alone either. She did not know however what to do with his company. She had felt all energy and reason drain out of her as she had walked up the stairs and all she could do now was stare at him, one hand still on the door, and wait for the last scraps of self-control holding her together to break apart. He spoke before that could happen.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to light more candles. This one tries to chase the darkness away but makes some of it that much deeper.”

The words centred her slightly, a tether for her mind to cling to. She closed the door behind her and walked forward, whether towards him or something else she was unsure.

“We can never chase the darkness away entirely, Cole.” The words came unbidden, feeling foreign on her tongue. “It always finds a place to hide. We just have to face it eventually.” Or at least, she had to. Submerge herself in the cold darkness Solas had left her with, let it envelop her, wash over her, consume her. And hope there would still be something left of her to make it out the other side.

“But not alone. I can help” He answered, and she watched him put the candle down on a table before turning back towards her.

“You can’t fix this, Cole.” She cut him off, a slight edge in her voice she would have given anything to have the power to hide.

“No…” he replied, walking slowly closer to her. “After we went to see the templar, the world felt sharp. Pushing, pulling, stabbing, inside and outside. Cold… Dark… Scary. You couldn’t make it stop, but you were there. Dulling the sharpest edge. Lighting the darkest corner. Warming the coldest night.” He stopped an arm’s length in front of her, hat pulled back revealing more of his face than normal, pale eyes unusually fixed on her own green ones, arms slightly wide at his side, palms facing her in an open invitation. “Let me help.”

She walked straight ahead until her head collided softly with his shoulder, her face buried in the leather. Tears started pouring out of her eyes, quietly at first and then joined by loud, racking sobs, like her whole body was trying to tear itself away from the flaring pain that blossomed in her chest. At first it was just the thought of Solas abandoning her, not just ending their relationship but disappearing entirely. But it seemed to drag everything out with it, every hurt she’d powered through since the Conclave, every fear, every regret. She wanted to scream and curse, but all she could muster was an occasional wordless wail, escaping her between sobs. Cole raised his arms gently around her, one hand resting on her back and the other on her shoulder. It was a ghost of a touch, but he used it to slightly rearrange them both, so her head fit more naturally into the hollow of his shoulder. She didn’t realise she’d moved her own hands to tighten into the back of his clothes until she found herself slightly pulling at the fabric or tapping a fist against his back in anger. The small part of her that wasn’t completely lost in a maelstrom of emotion regretted it, but Cole said nothing. He merely stood there, soft and warm, but steady, his fingers occasionally gently grazing her skin or hair, a small reminder that she was not alone.


End file.
